The Exception
by AlmightyOstrich
Summary: The angels are human (or dead), all the earth-shattering events are settled and Team Free Will's main trio is back in the regular family business. However, Dean is starting to notice some changes to the way he sees things (read: how he sees Cas). The problem is just how they're going to make it work when Dean still isn't clear on exactly where he stands. (Multichapter Destiel)
1. Chapter 1

Dean didn't know what to do with himself.

The sky was burning red and Dean was staring straight into the setting sun. Castiel was sitting at his right with the trenchcoat folded neatly in his lap. Dean didn't understand why Cas insisted on wearing the it on even the hottest days. Today though, working a job in Arizona, where Dean had harbored a daylong dream of jumping into the Bering Strait, Cas had had no other choice but to take off the coat and the black suit jacket. Castiel didn't sweat easily, but in this scorching desert heat, not even a former angel of the Lord was spared. Not that Dean complained. He had been gripped by an unsuspected feeling of joy when Cas rolled up his shirtsleeves and splashed water on his face when they came back to the motel room.

It was still hot, but cooling, and Dean was thinking of ways he could possibly get Cas to take his shirt off completely the next day. The job would be finished before noon, surely – just your average ghost haunting in a few houses. Noon had the most unbearable heat. Maybe they could go swimming.

Wait… Why was he thinking about this? Jesus Christ, it didn't matter to him if Cas wore a fur coat or underwear. There was no difference as long as Cas could work the job alright. No difference. No fucking difference.

Except there was.

Dean glanced at the dark-haired man beside him. Cas had his eyes closed and his hands folded on top of his coat.

"Cas? You alright?" Dean croaked. He hadn't expected his voice to be so hoarse.

Castiel opened his eyes.

"Yes. Just… tired."

"From ganking a few ghosts?" Dean raised his eyebrows, teasing automatically.

"It has been a long day", said Castiel, eyes slowly falling shut again. He leaned his head backwards and exhaled deeply. Dean couldn't help but watch the up-and-down movement of his chest and the bobbing on his throat as he swallowed, and the way his hands unfolded and-

What the fuck. None of that held any significance to Dean. At all. He was tired too, of course. His eyes caught on a spot and lazily lingered because he was tired. Just tired.

Except he wasn't.

"Since when does that bother you?" asked Dean.

"I believe it's a human thing", said Castiel, no particularly sensitive tone in his voice, as if it were the most natural thing in the world for him to refer to himself as not-an-angel.

"Yeah, about that…" Dean looked at the sun, then at Cas, then at the sun and then back at Cas again, strongly preferring the latter against his will. "How you holding up?"

Castiel opened his eyes again and looked at Dean. It was that Cas-look, that strong gaze that sometimes made Dean forget that Cas wasn't technically an angel anymore.

"Better", said Cas. "But I find the state of Arizona unnecessarily hot."

"Agreed", said Dean, even though he could see the positive, trenchcoat-shredding sides of the weather. Oh right, speaking of heat… "How about we go swimming tomorrow when the job is done? That'll cool you down."

"Swimming?"

"Yes."

"Where?" said Cas. "This is a desert."

Dean was getting annoyed, which was stupid since Cas was only pointing out the obvious.

"There has to be a lake or something somewhere", said Dean with fake certainty. "Or we can drive to one. I'll figure it out."

"Okay."

Dean's heart almost skipped a beat.

"So we're going?"

Castiel furrowed his eyebrows at him.

"Yes. I already agreed."

"Oh. Great. I mean awesome. I mean, cool."

Dean cleared his throat. What the hell was going on with him? The heat must be getting to his head.


	2. Chapter 2

"Dean, can we go back now?"

Dean almost jumped when Castiel spoke. They had been sitting silently for several minutes. Dean had been making a point to look at the sunset – _not_ Cas – and to think of the beer he would drink when they got back to the motel – _not_ how he was in a classically romantic setting with Cas.

Castiel had had his eyes closed the whole time since they last spoke – Dean guessed, of course. He didn't know. He hadn't been glancing at Cas every ten seconds – but now they were open, and there was a look in them that Dean hadn't seen before. He didn't just look tired, but actually sleepy.

"Sure", said Dean. He stood up quickly. Castiel followed, though not as fast.

"I'll take that." Dean grabbed Castiel's folded coat and tucked it under his arm. "You're really exhausted, aren't you?"

"It must be the heat", said Castiel, voice low and drowsy.

They started to walk. Ten minutes, then they would be at the motel and Dean would have that beer and relax and not look at Cas other than when one of them spoke.

"How much have you been sleeping lately?" asked Dean. He had a fair guess, though. Cas was always awake when Dean went to bed and when he woke up, which was the way it had always been, but since Cas was human now – technically – he had to sleep sometime.

"About four hours every night", said Castiel. "That should not have anything to do with my low level of energy."

"Four hours?" Dean huffed. "Cas, most people need at least seven. It's different for a hunter, but we're still human. _You're_ human. Maybe you need some time to figure out what your body needs."

_That sounded awfully sexual_, said a voice in Dean's head. His own, as a matter of fact, and he wished he had a frying pan to hit himself with. Not that Cas would notice if what he said sounded suggestive, of course. Cas never noticed, which was an advantage when Dean wanted to let his eyes rest on him a little too long or when he let something like that slip because he wasn't thinking. Not that those things ever happened. But if they had, if they ever did, then Castiel's inability to detect innuendo would be a good thing.

Cas was improving, though. He was acting more human every day, like he had finally started to land in a foreign country he had been hovering over for a long time. Just yesterday a waitress had flirted with him and he had noticed, telling her without a fuss that he wasn't available. Dean had thought about that phrase. '_Not available'. _He hadn't said '_not interested' _– he had said '_not available'._ Because Cas still thought of himself as an angel, Dean had decided. Not because Cas thought of himself as belonging to someone else already.

"I have been in this vessel for years, Dean. I have had time."

Dean shook his head, letting a small smile escape.

"No man, that isn't just a vessel anymore. It's your _body_. That's different."

Castiel narrowed his eyes.

"Different how?"

"You have human needs now", said Dean. "More or less." He briefly wondered about that. Exactly how was Cas dealing with these human needs? Did he get human… _needs?_

No. No, that wasn't important. _Shut up._

"So it's different", Dean finished. "Tell you what. We finish the job tomorrow, we go swimming, we grab a bite to eat and then you sleep all night and see how you feel after that."

"But-"

"Hey, no buts!" Dean cut Castiel off. "That's what we're gonna do. I've been human all my life, I know this shit. Trust me."

Castiel didn't say anything else, but resigned to a defeated silence which pleased Dean. Cas would have the best day tomorrow. Aside from the ghost-killing at the beginning, it would be a normal day like ordinary humans get to have. Cas should get that experience at least once.


	3. Chapter 3

Dean sank down onto a worn wooden chair in the motel room and cracked open a beer bottle against the edge of the table.

"You want one of these?"

Castiel turned his head where he was sitting on one of the three beds.

"I would rather have something to eat."

"Then get it", said Dean, not in any way willing to tend to Castiel's every desire.

"Sam's not back from the grocery store, Dean", said Cas. "We don't have anything to eat."

Right. Sam had left them a note when they got back, saying he had gone to the store to do some shopping. He would probably come back with mineral water and fruit instead of food.

Cas was looking very tired by now. The bags under his eyes were more prominent than usual and the whites were stained red enough for Dean to see it from where he was sitting, several feet away. Cas' back was arched and his shoulders slumped, not with relaxation but with muscles that were too tired to hold up the bones they were attached to. Were Dean in Castiel's position – which he had been many times – he would take a shower and then sleep until someone woke him up.

Dean put the bottle on the table and stood up. He walked over to Castiel and grabbed him by the shoulders.

"You need a shower and a good night's sleep", he said. "You can eat in the morning."

He led Castiel to the bathroom door and helped him take off his coat and jacket, trying desperately not to think of what it would be like if he kept helping, pulling him closer by the tie, taking it off, off with the shirt, away with the belt, off with the pants, into the shower, scrub-

No. Dean didn't want that. Not with a dude. Like, at all. Ever.

Except he did.

But he stopped at the suit jacket, throwing it on Castiel's bed.

"You remember the shampoo and soap thing I told you, right?" he asked.

Castiel nodded tiredly, eyes half closed.

"Shampoo in the hair, soap on the body. Got it."

Dean smiled. He'd had to teach Castiel the most basic and unsuspected things when he became human. It had been fun. Dean had maintained that he was annoyed and acted a bit mean about it, but really he was just amused and teasing. It was just so _Castiel_ to know the entire history of mankind and having actually been God for a while – although they never talked about that – and he still hadn't been able to figure out that soap doesn't go in the hair and that a dish brush isn't for decoration. If Dean hadn't had a list in his mind of other words for it – like stupid, pathetic, hilarious – he would've called it adorable.

He patted Castiel on the back, opened the door and shoved him into the bathroom.

"Don't fall asleep yet", he said, and shut the door. He kept his attention behind his back as he returned to the table and his bottle of beer, noticing the very loud absence of the clicking of a lock. The sound of the shower turning on came a little later. The door wasn't locked. Castiel was behind the door. Without clothes. All wet.

Which of course didn't affect Dean in any way whatsoever. Why would he be bothered? It wasn't a problem. He would shower after. No problem. No fucking problem.

Except there was.

Dean took a mental shovelful of those itchy thoughts and stuffed them deep down, stacked on top of the pile of crap he had assembled over the years, neat and secure, glued to the floor behind a solid wall. He was Dean Winchester. He may be 90 percent crap, but he was bullet proof.

About ten minutes and one and a half beer bottle later, the handle of the bathroom door turned downwards. Dean lowered the expectant eyebrows that had raised themselves without permission and closed the disobedient mouth that had parted his lips. A person coming through a door. Big deal.

But the eyebrows went up and the mouth opened again, wider than before, when Castiel stepped out. Fully naked, no clothes on, no towel, everything showing, he stepped out into the motel room. Something blocked Dean's throat and he couldn't speak. _What the hell, Cas,_ he wanted to say, but it came out as a pathetic hitched breath.

"There are no towels, Dean", said Castiel.

Dean stared at him. His eyes inspected Castiel from top to bottom and bottom to top, each time stopping somewhere in the middle.

"Dean."

Dean snapped out of it. He swallowed, returning his eyes to Cas' face.

"What?"

"There are no towels. How am I supposed to dry myself?"

"They're in the- in the- the basket", said Dean. Why was he stuttering?

Castiel backed into the bathroom again – but didn't shut the door – and soon emerged with a towel around his waist.

"Thank you. I should have looked in there."

It took Dean a moment to register that Cas had said something.

"Y-yeah. 'Course."

He downed almost all of what was left of the beer and fought the internal struggle of not looking at Cas where he now sat on the bed, ruffling his hair to dry it. Dean had taught him that, too. But Cas did it over and over again. He expected it to dry immediately after the ruffle like some kind of magic. This was the fifth time Dean saw him do it, and the fifth time he corrected him with the same words.

"One ruffle, Cas. Maybe two. The _air_ will dry it, not your hands."

And since he was speaking to him, Dean was allowed to look.

"Oh, right." Castiel lowered his hands. He scratched the back of his right bicep. Itches were human things, too. "I forgot."

He had been so nervous about the itching the first time. Sam was the one that had explained to him that it was normal, since Dean had been choking with laughter at Castiel's high-pitched voice when he couldn't see what was causing the need to scratch his knee. The memory still made Dean smile. Because it was hilarious. Not cute. Not cute at all.

Except it was.

Dean cleared his throat and stood up.

"Alright, my turn", he said as he made for the bathroom.

It was a wet mess in there. Half of the floor was a puddle of water, making it dangerously slippery. It splashed around Dean's boots when he walked in. The clothes Cas had left on the floor were soaked. Only the navy blue tie had been spared, saved by its higher position on the toilet lid. Dean wasn't surprised.

"Cas!" Dean called out, putting on an angry voice. "You gotta close the door to the shower stall, goddammit! It's like the Great Flood in here!"

Castiel was at his side in four seconds, assessing the size of his mistake.

"That looks nothing like the Great Flood. But I'm sorry, Dean", he said apologetically. "I forgot." He dropped his gaze to his feet. "I seem to be forgetting a lot of things today."

"You're tired", said Dean. He didn't sound angry now, and he wasn't. The day's events and relentless heat were catching up with him too and he didn't have any energy left to maintain the usual mask of mock irritation at Cas' messes.

"What's that got to do with it?"

"When you're tired", said Dean, and he sounded pretty worn out himself now, "your brain doesn't work as well as it does when you're not tired. That's why you need to sleep."

Castiel nodded slowly.

"I see."

"So go to sleep, dumbass", said Dean. Castiel frowned for a split second before he realized Dean was using the term affectionately. Dean could read him that well. He was pretty sure he knew all of Castiel's expressions. Not that Cas had that many, but they had been increasing in number ever since he became human.

Castiel went back out into the motel room. Dean picked up Castiel's clothes from the floor and tossed them out, purposefully hitting Cas first with the shirt and then with the pants.

"Dean!" He heard Castiel say. "You're hitting me with my clothes."

"Sorry." Dean snickered quietly. He picked up the tie and imagined himself swiftly catching Castiel around the neck with it and pulling him close. He could do that as a joke. A completely platonic joke. What he would like to do after that though, well, that was different.

Maybe it was the beer, maybe it was the tired fuzziness of his brain or maybe a bit of both, but Dean didn't bother to push the thoughts aside anymore. Whenever he did, new ones popped up within five minutes anyway. There wasn't room to stack them away anymore. His stock was full. Or something. He didn't feel like checking.

So he closed the door – not locking, because Cas hadn't, so why should he? – showered as fast as he could, grabbed a towel, tucked it around his waist and grabbed Cas' tie. He opened the door and stepped into the motel room. Cas was standing by the table rummaging through a plastic bag. Sam was next to him.

_Dammit, Sammy. _

Dean quickly hid Castiel's tie behind his back, tucked in between his ass and the towel.

"Oh, good, you're done", said Sam when he spotted Dean. He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. "My turn."

Sam practically ran into the shower, ceasing his charge only to back out again and give Dean a look that said 'Cas again?' to which Dean closed his eyes and nodded. Sam rolled his eyes half-jokingly, half-annoyed, and stepped in anyway. He closed and locked the door, and Dean and Cas were alone again.

Cas hadn't turned to look at Dean even once. Dean was slightly bothered by that. He had such trouble himself with not looking at Cas, and Cas just… didn't.

"Oh!" said Castiel contently. Dean couldn't see what he had pulled out of the bag, but he didn't need to, because, "Bananas!"

Fruit. Dean winced.

_Dammit, Sammy. _

Castiel turned around, mouth closed around half the length of one of the fruits.

_Thank you, Sammy. _

Cas bit off the banana, having taken a mouthful, and his words would have been indistinguishable if Dean hadn't heard them a hundred times before.

"Hello, Dean."

Dean smirked. He whipped the tie out from behind his back. Time for the platonic joke. He hurled the tie around Cas' neck with one hand and caught the free end with the other before pulling at them. Cas was jerked forward, and their faces ended up only a few inches apart. Cas braced himself with the knuckles of his right hand, which also held the banana, against Dean's bare chest.

"Why did you do that?" asked Cas through the banana mush in his mouth.

"I just wanted some of your banana."

Dean hated fruit and wished Castiel had been holding a hot dog or something instead, but he pulled back, lowered his head and slowly covered part of the banana with his mouth. He took a bite and glanced at Cas, trying to look in some way alluring, but it was hard to do with cheeks puffed out by disgusting fruit diarrhea.

"Oh, god", he said after moment. He had to let go of the tie and move over to the bin to spit.

"Bananas are great, Dean", said Castiel calmly, seemingly unaffected by the event. Man, was he slow. "I think you'd like them if you just stopped assuming meat is better."

Dean almost choked on his own spit. Cas hadn't intended it, but he had just uttered the metaphoric innuendo of the week.

But Dean had just been messing around. Nothing but platonic teasing. Totally platonic.

Except it wasn't.


	4. Chapter 4

Dean couldn't seem to find a comfortable position to sleep in.

Thoughts kept popping up, uninvited, of Castiel, the tie and the banana and why Dean had done that thing – even though it had been totally platonic – because he wasn't gay and he didn't want to sleep with a dude and he sure as hell didn't like bananas.

Not that Cas was unappealing. Not at all. Dean saw no shame in appreciating a nice body when he saw one, male or female or whatever. He wasn't bothered by that. But he wasn't gay.

Sam thought he was bi. _'Or are you strictly into dick now?'_

Dean scoffed at the memory. Sam had had a period many years ago when he repeatedly told Dean that whatever he preferred was okay and Sam would accept him because Sam didn't care and Dad would accept him because Dean was 'his son, after all'.

Of course it would be okay, if that were the case, but it wasn't. There was nothing to accept except the usual, the expected. Dean was straight – straight as a fucking plank.

Except he wasn't.

Dean froze at the sound of the door opening and closing. He whirled around in the bed to look, but the door was closed and no one was there. He looked to the left. Sam was sleeping in the bed farthest away, and Cas was-

Cas wasn't there. He had been sleeping in the bed next to Dean's, but that one was empty.

Careful not to make a sound that might wake Sam, Dean stood up and put on the jeans he had left on the floor. He took his olive green jacket from the back of a chair. The days in Arizona may have been scorching hot, but the nights were chilly. Dean put the jacket on and, as quietly as he could, snuck out.

In his peripheral vision, he saw a beige garment whip around the corner at his left. Cas was heading towards the bushy landscape behind the motel, where even a few planted trees stood and there was a steep that you eventually came to, where stood a big rock that was perfect to sit on, which he and Cas had done earlier when they had been watching the sunset, not because they wanted to spend time together, but because they actually wanted to look at the sun. Because looking at the sun was fun. Really fun. Entertaining.

Except it really wasn't.

The moon was half but shone bright above the dry landscape which Dean tried to sneak through as quietly as he could, wanting to see where Cas was going. Dean kept a distance of no less than ten feet between them.

Eventually Cas stopped by the steep and sat down on the rock in the same spot he had been sitting before. Dean stopped too, but about fourteen feet behind. Dean could hear Cas sighing and could, in the moonlight, see how his shoulders went up and down with the breath. Castiel didn't move or make a sound after that, so Dean approached him.

"Cas?"

Castiel turned his head.

"Dean", he said, surprised but not startled.

"What are you doing out here?"

"I'm not tired, so I went out", said Cas. But he was lying – Dean could see the dark rings around his eyes and how his eyelids hung lower than usual. Castiel's entire body was slumping in a way that screamed exhaustion.

"Bull", said Dean, taking a seat next to Castiel. "I can see that you're tired, man. Why don't you go to sleep? You'll feel much better in the morning."

Castiel didn't seem upset that his lie had been busted. Instead he looked down, and said with a dejected voice,

"I… I can't."

"You can't sleep?" asked Dean.

"Not properly, like you and Sam", said Castiel, and Dean sensed a tiny bit of envy. "I fall asleep, but then I dream of when I fell, of losing my grace… Or I dream of looking in a mirror and seeing myself with wings, and then of flying. Then I wake up and it's still nighttime but I don't want to fall asleep again. I don't want to have those dreams. I can't control it."

Dean felt a wave of sadness crash over him. Cas had been trying to do what he needed all along, but his memories wouldn't let him. Cas wasn't doing better, he was just experiencing his problems in a more human way, suppressing and failing and wearing himself out in silence. Dean hoped he wasn't the one who'd taught Cas _that_.

"Cas", said Dean, sounding more affectionate than he had intended, "you're not supposed to be able to control your dreams."

Castiel looked at Dean, his expression sad and confused.

"We dream about things we've been through, things we've been thinking about, things we feel…" Dean shifted somewhat uncomfortably before saying the next thing. "…Things we want. We don't get to decide what our dreams are going to be about. It would be awesome", Dean smirked briefly, "…but we don't."

"So how do you sleep?" asked Cas. "With all that you've seen and done. How do you rest without waking up every hour?"

"Well, you gotta get past it somehow. You'll learn."

"Are there no shortcuts? I don't know how much more of this I can take, Dean."

Castiel's tone was so full of resignation and despair that Dean could hardly contain himself. He wanted to wrap his arms around Cas, kiss his head, grab his face and look him in the eyes and tell him it would be okay. He would have cut off a finger right then and there if it would've made Cas smile. If only it were that easy.

Dean didn't even have room to think about what he was thinking. There was no space left for the voice of denial that told him he wasn't really feeling what he was feeling. Now that it had been silenced by the sight of Castiel's torment, Dean realized what he had been avoiding for he didn't know how long.

Somehow, somewhere, at some point, Dean Winchester had fallen in love with Castiel.

_Fuck. _


	5. Chapter 5

"Well, you can drink or pick a fight or… find someone", said Dean, hoping he wouldn't have to elaborate on the last thing.

"Find someone?"

What had he expected?

"Yeah, you know…" Dean mentally cursed himself for mentioning it. "Someone to… be with without forming emotional attachments."

Castiel narrowed his eyes at him. Dean shifted nervously. Suddenly, Castiel looked like a light bulb had popped up over his head.

"Oh", he said, "I understand. You mean intercourse."

Dean had to look at the ground and press his lips together in order to hold back a snort. He nodded.

"Yeah."

Then he realized what he had just suggested.

"But that doesn't work for everyone, you know", he added quickly. "Probably wouldn't work for you, I mean, you're… It's not your thing. Trust me."

Cas looked thoughtful.

"I'm not so sure. I've never tried it. Maybe I should."

Dean felt the panic come creeping. Cas and someone else…? No. Not again, that was unacceptable. Cas and him? Well. Now that he wasn't denying it anymore, Dean felt like what Castiel had just said: he'd never tried it. Maybe he should.

But there was an obstacle. A huge ass freakin' hindrance.

What if Cas didn't feel the same way?

Or worse, what if Dean suggested it and Cas agreed thinking it was supposed to be without emotional attachments? What if they woke up the next morning and Cas acted like nothing had happened? Dean couldn't live with that. It would be torture. So if he wanted it to happen, he would have to tell Castiel how he felt. He would have to say the words. The fucking words.

No. He didn't want to say the fucking words.

Except he did.

"Let us go to a bar tomorrow."

Dean snapped out of his thoughts.

"What?"

"I said let us go to a bar tomorrow", Cas repeated. "And I will find someone."

Dean felt his heart sink.

"Weren't we going to go swimming?" he asked, pretending to pretend to sound insulted.

"I remember", said Castiel. "I meant after that."

"Oh", said Dean. Good. That bought him some time to think of a way to avoid having Cas meet a girl – or a guy, what did he know?

Maybe he could find an urgent job somewhere. Maybe he could trick Cas into thinking that stinky clothes and random shouting are human signs of availability. Maybe he could break his own arm and ask Cas to play cards with him all night as a gesture of solidarity. Maybe he could die and haunt Cas and prevent him from sleeping with people.

Again, if only it were that simple. But Dean sure as hell wasn't going to say the fucking words.

"Wait."

Dean raised his eyebrows. Castiel had narrowed his eyes again. He had just thought of something, something he wasn't certain of, but he had put two and two together and it had led him to something else than what he had previously considered.

Man, Dean was even starting to think like Cas talked.

"What?" asked Dean when Cas didn't continue.

"If…" Castiel furrowed his eyebrows, staring straight ahead. "…If there are no emotional attachments formed, that means it is solely the physical experience that is desired. Correct?"

"Uh…" Dean didn't know what Cas was onto here, but it felt weird. "Yes?"

Cas nodded and looked at Dean.

"Then of the physical experience, is it the sexual contact or the act of prolonged close physical touch that is most important?"

Dean stared at Castiel. _What the fuck?_

"Uh… Well, I guess it's different for different people. I don't know, I'm not a psychologist!"

"There is no need to become agitated, Dean", said Cas calmly. "I'm only trying to understand what a human needs."

"Yes, but why do you need to know every detail of everything?" said Dean, growing annoyed for real now, mostly because he was scared. Of something. For some reason.

"Because I was thinking", said Cas, turning his eyes away from Dean again. "We both know I am not particularly skilled in the act of flirtation." He braced his elbows on his knees and fiddled with his hands – a very not-Cas-like thing to do. "So I thought, if it is the act of prolonged close physical contact that is most important in order to be able to sleep well, perhaps it wouldn't be entirely inappropriate to-"

Cas suddenly stopped talking. He was looking down, sitting as still as a statue. Dean noticed how loud his own breaths sounded inside his head.

"To what?" he asked, putting on a completely fake cocky tone, hoping Cas wouldn't notice how his voice trembled at the end of the question.

_What the hell is happening?_

"To…" Castiel sighed. He was still slumped forward and tugging on his own fingers, but he had turned his head ever-so-slightly and was looking Dean straight in the eyes without falter when he spoke again. "Perhaps it wouldn't be entirely inappropriate for me to ask you to help me."

If Dean were to explain the feeling, the closest he would come would be to describe an image of a dancing banana putting TNT around an old can of tomato soup and blowing it up, causing a flood of red mush to hit him in the face.

"H-help you…? How?" Dean almost tripped over his own tongue.

"What I'm suggesting is that you and I engage in a form of prolonged close-"

"Physical contact", Dean finished automatically. "You've said that phrase enough for one day."

"Please let me finish."

Dean closed his mouth.

"Would it be inappropriate for me to suggest us sharing a bed?"

And there they were, in the situation Dean had feared. Well, _one_ of the situations Dean had feared. It didn't matter if they were having sex or not – if they shared a bed and cuddled or some shit and Cas wasn't involving feelings, Dean felt like he would probably implode. As pathetic as he felt about it, he knew he wouldn't be able to keep emotions out, not when it was Castiel.

"Not for intercourse, of course. Just for… what do you call it… _cuddling_?"

So he would either have to say no, which would put him back at square one, or he would have to say the fucking words. He was cornered now, cornered and panicking. He could accept, of course, accept that emotional torture, pretend he wasn't touched by it, stack it on top of the pile of other crap deep inside his mind. It had to still work. There had to still be room. It had to-

"Dean?"

Dean twitched when Castiel cautiously poked him on the shoulder. He realized he had stopped listening.

"I'm sorry, what did you say?"

Castiel looked sad.

"Perhaps it was stupid of me to ask", he said. "I apologize, Dean. I am still struggling to understand the social rules and limitations."

Castiel's touch brought Dean back to reality, back to the state where he didn't think, just cared. Cared about Cas being happy. Cared about _making_ Cas happy.

"No, Cas", he said breathlessly, "there's nothing wrong with asking for help."

"I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable", said Cas, not exactly relaxed himself. He looked at Dean, and the moonlight hit him in an exact angle that made his blue eyes gleam as if the stars were in there rather than trapped in the sky.

"It's okay, Cas, I-" Dean stopped himself. Jesus, he'd almost said it. He didn't want to say it. He couldn't say it. He couldn't.

Except he could.

He could just open his mouth and blurt it out.

No, he couldn't. _Shut up._

"I care about you, okay?" _That,_ he could say. "I'll help you." He licked his lips. "But we can't share a bed."

"Why not?" Cas asked, surprisingly quickly.

"Because it would make Sammy uncomfortable", Dean explained patiently, hoping Cas would know better than to keep asking why. "But we can stay here a while. As long as you like." Dean inhaled deeply and mustered up the courage to wrap his arm around Cas' shoulders. "Like this." His right hand hung in the air in front of Cas' chest. It surprised him how calm he was, as if _holding_ Cas was something he had done before, something he was supposed to do.

Castiel sank into the embrace and leaned his head to the side, the hair on the top of his head brushing against Dean's jawline. Dean shivered, but raised his right hand and slowly stroked Cas' cheek with the back of his fingers. Castiel sighed.

Dean had expected to feel uncomfortable, to feel wrong, but what he felt was better than listening to a good song while driving down an empty interstate in the Impala. He felt like… like home.

_You're turning into a chick, man. Quit being so cheesy. _


	6. Chapter 6

They spent hours like that, frozen in time with Castiel sharing in detail the dreams he'd had. Dean made jokes about how stupid they were, and sometimes, with his hand against Castiel's cheek, he could feel the former angel smiling.

When they had been sitting there so long that the moon had moved in the sky, Dean found himself yawning more and more often. Cas did, too.

"Do you have to do that, Dean?" asked Cas after the sixth yawn in maybe two minutes.

Dean froze, ceasing the movement of his fingers that were absent-mindedly fiddling with the collar of Cas' coat. He held his breath.

"What?"

"Yawn", said Castiel. Dean exhaled. "Every time you do it, I do it too. It bothers me."

Dean chuckled.

"I'll try not to."

"Thank you."

A few minutes later, Dean did it again.

"I'm sorry, Cas", he said, speaking through the yawn. "Couldn't help it."

Cas didn't answer. Dean tried to get a look at his face, but his head was leaning into the crook of Dean's neck and all Dean could see was a mop of dark hair.

"Cas?" Still nothing. "Cas."

Dean grabbed Castiel's shoulders and shuffled away to get a better look at him. When his head no longer found support it hung lifeless for a split second before jerking up, his eyes wide open and startled. One hand gripped Dean's jacket and the other braced against the stone between them. He didn't make a sound, just stared at Dean.

"Hey, relax, man." Dean smirked. "You fell asleep?"

Castiel looked thoughtful, furrowing his eyebrows and pursing his lips slightly.

"It appears I did", he said. His grip on Dean loosened until he let go completely. Dean let go of Cas' shoulders and Cas rearranged his position on the rock so he was sitting up straight.

"So? Any dreams?"

"Yes", said Cas. "But not like before. It was quite pleasant this time."

"So what did you dream about?"

"I was sitting in the car with you and Sam. You increased the volume of the music and sang along."

Dean felt a warmth spread in his chest. Cas' good dream had been of him. No, _with _him. With him, not _of_ him.

"You asked me and Sam to sing along", Cas continued. "I didn't know the song, but I enjoyed watching you and Sam. You looked… happy." He smiled. "Then I woke up."

"So you're feeling better now?" asked Dean.

Cas took a second to think.

"Yes", he said. "I believe you helped me. We can go back to the motel now. I will most likely be able to sleep. Thank you again."

Dean nodded seriously.

"Sure."

"If it were to happen that I require prolonged close physical contact in the future", said Castiel, "will you help me again?"

Dean tried not to look too delighted when his eyebrows shot up and the ends of his mouth stubbornly curved upwards.

"Of course, Cas", he said, struggling not to grin like an idiot. "Whatever you need. Just let me know."

Cas nodded once.

"Now let us return to the motel."


	7. Chapter 7

As Dean had predicted, the job was done before noon, just in time for lunch.

Dean suggested they bring takeout and take it to a lake. Sam wondered why the hell Dean wanted to go to a lake. Dean said shut up, he felt like it, and so they went, bringing their burgers and Sam's salad. They found a lake by asking a couple of locals.

In reality it wasn't because _shut up, he felt like_ _it_ – it was because he just couldn't wait. It was all he could think about. Well, not the lake per se, but the Cas-taking-his-clothes-off part. That was all Dean could think about and it bothered him that he had gotten so obsessed with it. Usually when he became that infatuated with someone he'd just go for it, but this was different. _Cas_ was different. It was different and difficult and all sorts of stupid.

So, Dean figured, maybe he could eat in peace if they went to the lake, being one step closer to the final stage of his current obsession of seeing Cas shirtless – which was really just one step in an even _bigger_ obsession of seeing other things, but still. Because despite all those other things, Dean was freaking hungry.

The area around the lake was empty of people save Dean, Sam and Cas. The three of them sat on the grassy edge by the water. The lake was pretty small – even a child could swim across it – but it was deep and had a mysterious shade of dark brownish blue. With a certain light hitting it, it was almost the same color as Castiel's eyes. Not that Dean noticed, of course.

Sam took the food out of the paper bag and handed it out to its respective owners. Dean hungrily grabbed his burger and tore the paper open, taking a huge bite and humming contentedly. Castiel was much less eager, and eyed Sam with a small hint of worry.

"Where are the straws?" He asked.

"Don't worry, they're right here", said Sam, suppressing a smile.

Castiel had noticed that the diner they'd bought their food at had free straws. He had never put much thought to straws before and asked Dean what they were. Dean had explained, careful to mention how straws were mainly for kids, which of course hadn't put a hold on Castiel's fascination with them. He had grabbed a handful and put them in the food bag, insisting they use them.

And now Sam pulled the damn things out of the bag and gave them to Cas.

"Surely I will not need all of them", said Cas.

"No and neither will I", said Sam. "I can throw them away if you don't want them but I won't carry them for you."

Cas clutched the straws – there must have been at least fifteen of them – protectively against his chest and squinted at Sam.

"I'll keep them."

"Whatever", said Sam, opening the lid of his plastic salad container.

While Dean and Sam were munching away at their food, Cas carefully took the paper off a straw. He inspected it closely from one end to the other, touched it, stroked it, even smelled it, at which point Dean had had enough. It was annoying. It wasn't because Dean was getting jealous of a damn straw. It wasn't because Cas was staring intensely at something Dean wished was him, because he was smelling something Dean wished was him, because he was stroking- You get the point. It wasn't because of that at all.

Except it was.

"For God's sake, Cas!" Dean slammed his burger onto the wrapping paper he'd put on the ground in front of his crossed legs.

Castiel looked at him incredulously.

"Are you gonna stare at that thing all day? Use it or lose it, or I'll lose it for you." Dean pointed at the burger in Cas' lap, still in its wrapping. "You need to eat."

Cas gave him a look he couldn't decipher – something close to '_I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself, Dean',_ but held back by '_I know I am not perfectly capable of taking care of my human self and you've helped me before so I trust you, Dean'_. Whatever it was, it made something tingle in Dean's stomach.

Without a word, Cas stuffed the straw into the pocket of his suit jacket – he had taken off his trenchcoat, thank God, because it was really hot even with the breezes catching speed over the lake – where he had also put all the other straws. He then picked up his burger and ate without so much as a grunt of discontent.

When they were done eating, which was at about the same time for all three of them, Cas handed a straw each to Sam and Dean.

"I'm not drinking out of a straw, Cas", said Dean immediately, but snatched it from Cas' hand when he wouldn't stop waving it in Dean's face.

"Why not?" asked Cas.

"Because I won't."

"Why not?"

"Because it looks ridiculous and it's like sucking a tiny dick."

"You know anything about sucking dicks?" asked Sam slyly.

Dean glared at him.

"Shut up."

Sam smiled to himself.

"Can't you do it just for the sake of amusement?" asked Cas.

"How would drinking out of a straw amuse me?" said Dean.

"It would amuse _me_", said Cas.

"I'll do it, Cas", said Sam, just to put an end to the argument.

Dean couldn't be worse than his brother, of course, and when the chance existed of being the center of Cas' amusement, if only for a moment, Dean suddenly didn't feel like it was such a big deal to drink out of a straw anymore.

"How do you use it?" asked Cas.

"You stick it in the hole", muttered Dean.

Sam snorted and almost choked on his drink.

"Shut up", said Dean.

"What hole?" asked Cas.

"The hole in the middle", said Dean.

"There's no hole."

"There's a crack. Stick it there."

"Could you assist me?"

"With what?"

"I need you to help me stick it in the hole."

Sam burst out laughing so hard that he had to put his drink down.

Dean uncrossed his legs for a second and kicked him on the knee. It helped a little, and Sam managed to calm down, drying his eyes with the back of his hand.

"Why was that funny?" asked Cas.

"It wasn't", said Dean immediately. "Here, look…"


	8. Chapter 8

"Man, I shouldn't have eaten all those French fries."

Sam stretched his arms up over his head and yawned. He had eaten all of Dean's fries because Dean wasn't all that hungry anymore – for undisclosed reasons – and wanted to save room for his pie, which he was planning to eat after swimming.

Noticing Sam's love for them, Cas had offered his own fries to Sam, who gladly accepted. Dean thought it was sweet, and had to consciously stop himself from smiling fondly when Cas – who Dean knew was usually keen on eating – passed Sam his not-so-little box of fries.

They sat by the side of the lake for a while to let their stomachs process the food. Castiel asked about it – why they weren't going to get in the water right away – and Sam had to explain the process of digestion and the possibility of cramps the best he could, which really wasn't that bad. Castiel was fascinated.

Dean took the time to gaze at the lake, letting his eyes wander aimlessly and having his ears shut out the sound of Sam's lecture. The water was still, the sun was beaming down from a nearly cloudless sky, and the occasional light breeze made the treetops sway. It was peaceful, calm, quiet, and horrible because it made Dean's thoughts so much louder.

So he was going to see Cas without anything but underwear on. He was going to see Cas _wet_ without anything but underwear on. What was he going to do with that experience? He couldn't just sit on his bed back at the motel room and drool while he remembered.

Except he could.

And he probably would.

But what Dean really wanted to do – mostly because he felt like he had no other choice judging from the aching in his muscles and the crawling under his skin whenever Cas was close – was test the water, no pun intended. There had to be a line somewhere where Cas started to understand what was implied by an action or a phrase. He wasn't completely dull and certainly not innocent. The problem was that Sam was there, and Dean sure as hell couldn't do anything until that changed. He didn't really mind if Sam were to find out about his feelings – Sammy would always accept and support Dean, as he had been so sure to let Dean know again and again and again until Dean wanted to punch a hole through a wall – but he wasn't too fond of the idea of Sam actually seeing the physical manifestations of those feelings, especially when the risk of being rejected was present- _Dammit,_ he was thinking like Cas talked again.

Then again, he didn't want to push his little brother away just so he could get a chance to flirt with an ex-angel.

"But I think it'd be fine now." Sam's change of tone jerked Dean back to the present moment. He drew his eyes away from the water and found that Cas was grinning at him.

"Then what are we waiting for?" he said, his usually deep, husky voice carrying a lighter tone. He sounded… playful?

"I'm gonna stay here", said Sam. "Try and get some sleep. I really had too many French fries."

Having Sam say he had eaten too much was not a small thing, because Sam himself was anything but small. He was as tall as a skyscraper, and muscular on top of that, so he usually ate like a freaking horse. A burger, some water and three packs of French fries – even if they were all big – shouldn't bother him that much. Dean would have teased him about it and called him a sissy if it weren't for the realization dawning upon him that Sam would not be in the water. He would be on land. Farther away. With his eyes closed. Maybe even asleep. Dean held back the urge to pump his fist in victory.

As Sam lay down in the dry grass, one arm over his eyes to escape the intense light from the sun, Dean and Cas undressed – not each other, as Dean may have wished, but they undressed.

And then they stood there in nothing but their underwear. Dean tried desperately not to let his eyes linger too long in any spot that wasn't on Castiel's face. But there it was, all of it – well, _almost_ all of it – hipbones and tiny chest hairs and nipples and ribs and collarbones and bare shoulders and elbows and knees and thighs and calves and-

Was he losing control? Getting closer to the edge? No. No, not at all.

Except he just might be.

"Dean", said Castiel suddenly, looking from Dean to the water and back again.

"Yes?"

"I have never swum."

"You haven't? You've lived for how long and you've never been in the water?"

"I have been in the water", said Castiel. Something dark fell over his eyes for a moment. Dean knew why, and immediately regretted questioning Castiel's words. He could still see it, a leviathan-possessed Castiel walking into the water, not stopping until he disappeared below the surface. The memory made the hairs on Dean's arms stand on end and he held back the urge to shudder. "But I have never needed to swim."

"Then I'll teach you!" said Dean. He tried to lighten the mood with a smile, but he still felt sick enough from the memory of Cas disappearing that it probably looked more like a pained grimace. He started to walk into the water. It was cooling and actually very nice, but he didn't give much time to noticing it.

"It's not that hard", he said. "You'll float if you relax, so there's no danger as long as you stay calm. The trick is to not get scared."

Castiel followed Dean, a little wary of the water splashing around his calves. Glancing back at him, Dean thought maybe Cas remembered that horrible day, too, and he hoped Cas knew Dean really had forgiven him.

Dean stopped when the water reached his waist and waited for Cas to catch up. The ex-angel stroked the water with his right hand as he walked, just barely breaking the surface.

"So? How is it?" asked Dean.

Cas stopped, well inside Dean's personal bubble. It wasn't something new, but while Dean had gotten used to it when they were wearing clothes, this was different. There was so much skin everywhere. Skin. Everywhere.

"It feels surprisingly nice", said Castiel slowly. "It's… cooling."

"Right? Well, that's your body saying thanks for getting it out of the heat."

A very basic statement, but Dean knew it was the kind of thing Cas needed clarified.

"Now", said Dean, "let's try swimming, alright? We'll swim this way", Dean gestured to his right, "so you can stop and stand on the bottom whenever you want. What you gotta do is-"

"Align my body horizontally with my head above the surface of the water", Castiel finished.

"… Yes", said Dean. "Yes, exactly. And then, uh…" Explaining swimming was harder than he'd thought. "Just, uh, scoop with your arms like this." Dean demonstrated in the air. "And kick with your legs pretty much the same way."

"It is similar to the way a frog swims, isn't it?" said Cas. "I have seen frogs swim. It doesn't look too difficult. They propel themselves forward through the water with those movements."

"Yeah, like a frog", said Dean. "Just try, you'll get the hang of it."

"Can you show me first?"

Dean felt like his heart might dislodge from its position in his chest and fly into outer space when Cas cocked his head to the side and looked at Dean with puppy-dog pleading, blue eyes. Cas didn't want to admit it, Dean thought to himself, but he was a little nervous. Just a little, but still.

"Sure."

Dean threw himself into the water and swam a couple of feet before putting his feet on the bottom again and turning to Castiel.

"Come on now", he urged.

Cas lunged himself forward, hitting the water with a giant splash, the force of which must have hurt his stomach to some degree. The splash swallowed his head under the water and he jerked his neck back, eyes wide as he gasped for air. His hands clawed at the water in front of him, causing even more splashing that hit him in the eyes so he had to blink and nope, he needed to try again.

Dean quickly waded over to Cas, hurrying more than he would have admitted to anyone, and grabbed him by the arms to help him up to a standing position. Cas gripped Dean's forearms tight and leaned on him for support. For a second, his face made contact with Dean and Dean would be damned if his knees didn't wobble a little bit at that – the feeling of Castiel's wet lips brushing against his collarbone.

But then Cas was standing up straight and his hands were rubbing his eyes instead of holding on to Dean's arms.

"It appears I-" Castiel coughed, then gave a small smile that melted every bone in Dean's body. It might actually have been true, because Dean let his knees give in and plopped down into the water, only his head sticking up at the same level as a very interesting part of Castiel's body. "It appears I did something wrong."

Dean laughed.

"You were too enthusiastic, man. You gotta like, _slide_ into the water, not lunge yourself like a cannon ball."

Castiel's hair was hanging flat on his head, water dripping from the dark strands Dean suddenly wanted to run his fingers through.

_Why the hell not?_

Dean stood up and reached out a hand, stroking back the hair that was making drops of water fall into Cas' eyes.

"Keep your hair out of your eyes and you'll see better."

Cas chuckled.

"Thank you."

It wasn't often Dean had seen Castiel smile so much in such a brief period of time.


	9. Chapter 9

Dean stood closer to Cas when he tried again. This time he didn't create a chaos of water, but dashed forward and swam one stride, two, three… He swam like it didn't become him in the slightest. Dean glanced to the side to see if Sam had been disturbed by the earlier commotion. He hadn't. He was laying exactly the way he had when Castiel and Dean had walked into the water.

"Dean!"

Dean turned his head. Cas had stopped and was sitting in the water like Dean had before, only his head sticking up, and with a smile on his face that could light up the world.

"Are you going to have me swim alone?"

Dean grinned and leapt forward, diving down and taking a few strides under the surface. He could hold his breath for quite a while – a hunter develops all kinds of skills over time – and reached Cas without having to come up for air.

Dean opened his eyes under the water and saw something light and leg-shaped through the brownish murkiness. He reached out, grabbed Cas by the ankle, and jerked. Cas fell backwards and Dean came up just in time to see a dark mop of hair disappear in another splash of water. Dean laughed.

Cas came up, spat out some water and looked at Dean. His face was expressionless, but there was a look in his eyes that told Dean he was thinking about something.

"It's good to see you laugh, Dean", said Cas finally, and his voice was filled with so much affection Dean thought he might throw up. From disgust, not butterflies in his stomach. From disgust.

Except it was definitely because of butterflies.

"Shut up, I laugh all the time", he said, hoping his face wasn't turning red.

Cas seemed to think for a moment, looking at the water and furrowing his eyebrows, and Dean wondered if he was once more remembering that horrible day.

_No, dumbass, don't think about that. This is a good day. Don't think about-_

Cas disappeared under the surface again, came back up, and suddenly a squirt of water hit Dean in the face. Castiel laughed.

"Did you just…?" Dean wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.

"I am sure a straw would make my aim even more accurate", said Cas, smirking contentedly.

Cas had squirted water from his mouth into Dean's face. Why did that feel like an experience that should be treasured?

"Go get one then", said Dean, his voice dropping an octave for no conscious reason. "But you might wake Sam."

Their heads were still the only things sticking up from the water. Dean was squatting and Cas was apparently on his knees, because his hip bumped into Dean's left knee when he inched closer.

"And why would I care about that?" he said, dropping his voice to match Dean's, although Cas' was much more husky and sharp.

Dean didn't know why he was so turned on by that. Maybe it was because of Cas' sex voice or because of the attitude he'd suddenly put on – or maybe because their faces were only inches apart and Cas was looking at Dean so intensely that he was physically unable to look away. Whatever it was, it made Dean's mouth speak before he got a say in what words were to come out.

"'Cause then we wouldn't have this privacy."

"Why do we need privacy, Dean?" asked Cas, but it didn't sound like a question. And when he said Dean's name, oh _fuck_-

"You-" Dean cleared his throat. _Fuck me. In both interpretations. _"You tell me."

Cas tried to get even closer, his hip rubbing stubbornly against Dean's knee until Dean dropped it and knelt on the sandy bottom of the lake. Cas closed in until his breath fell hot on Dean's cheek.

"You'd know better", he whispered hoarsely. "You know more about human needs."

_Fuck._

Dean was suddenly very glad he was sitting, suddenly grateful that the water reached as high as it did, and instantly developed a newfound appreciation for the fact that lake water isn't as clear as pool water or air. Although with Cas as close as he was, he'd only need about half an inch more to notice.

Dean needed to back away. He needed to swim. They should swim. Totally platonic. Fun. Easy. Nice. Relaxing.

But Dean couldn't move – or he wouldn't; he wasn't sure which one.

Cas leaned forward just a little bit to adjust his posture and, well, he noticed. He stopped mid-movement, suddenly frozen, staring at a point of empty air somewhere above Dean's shoulder. Dean didn't know he knew so many swearwords, but they all rushed through his mind in 200 miles per hour screaming at the top of their lungs. He forgot to breathe, then remembered but still didn't do it. This wasn't the right time to take in oxygen.

Cas blinked. When he opened his eyes again, his pupils were larger than before and looking straight into Dean's.

"You definitely need to tell me more about _that_."

Dean swallowed. Okay, that was not what he had expected. In fact, what was this? What was happening? What was Cas saying? Surely he didn't want- He couldn't mean- Did he? Wait, _did he?_

_Okay, time to test the water. Ha-ha. Great pun. Shut up._

Dean slowly reached out his left hand and let it grace against Castiel's fingers. Cas responded by letting out a small breath that hit Dean's lips. This reaction, if subtle, gave Dean a burst of confidence – and maybe a little desperation – with which he gripped Castiel's hand properly and held it.

"It'll have to be a show and tell", he mumbled.

"I don't mind", said Cas.

Dean felt like he was going to swallow his tongue. He wasn't usually this nervous around people he was flirting with – but then again he usually flirted with strange women, not with his best friend Cas.

Flirting. With Cas. Those were words Dean never thought he would use in the same sentence.

In a fit of anxiety, Dean let go of Castiel's hand and shuffled back an inch or two, knees scraping in the rough sand. Castiel's eyes widened a little.

"Is something wrong?" he asked.

Dean opened his mouth, but no words came out. Words weren't even forming in his brain. Apparently this plane wasn't going to fly on autopilot.

It was all so incredibly awkward, two heads sticking up from the water, staring at each other without a clue what to do next. Small waves bobbed around them, slowly stilling as if time itself was slowing down.

"No", Dean finally said. "I just… thought you needed to practice swimming some more."

Cas furrowed his eyebrows.

"Was I not good enough?"

"Oh, you were more than good enough." Wait. Had he said that out loud? He hadn't meant to say that out loud.

Cas smirked.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"You were good", Dean repeated.

"But nevertheless I need to practice more?"

"Maybe just the dive", said Dean. He was just making things up as he went along, talking shit straight through his teeth because he was too much of a sissy to touch Cas again. Not that he didn't want to, but it made him feel vulnerable, and Dean hated that feeling.

"Alright then." Castiel stood up, revealing a pale, lean torso, ribs and hip bones and abdomen and Dean couldn't help but take a moment to suck it in – figuratively speaking, sadly.

Dean swam a few laps farther out into the lake and stood up where the water reached his solar plexus, just to be sure. Cas already knew about it, but it still felt less real if he didn't have to see it.

Dean was about to tell Cas to do the dive – which he really didn't need to practice at all, but in some areas of life Cas was very gullible, especially when it was Dean or Sam telling him something – but just as he opened his mouth Dean noticed that Cas' gaze was fixed on something; something on Dean, but not his face. Cas' eyes were not usually inclined to wander, so Dean tried to follow the trail of his eyes to see what he was looking at. The trail ended on Dean's left upper arm, on the handprint still pink and clearly visible from when Cas had brought him out of Hell years ago.

And with that, somehow, Dean didn't feel as vulnerable anymore. He could still feel the blood coursing through his veins – more in some places than other – but now his head worked and his mouth could move.

"You comin', sunshine?"

It didn't do much to snap Cas out of his trance.

"Hello?" Dean waved.

Cas' eyes jumped to Dean's face.

"The handprint", he said. Dean could clearly hear the threat of an echo, of sound waves bouncing off the surrounding trees if Cas spoke just a little louder. They needed to be closer if they didn't want to wake Sam – and they did _not_ want to wake Sam. But at the same time, Dean's vocal chords might tie themselves in a knot again if Cas got too close. So it was kind of all or nothing. Do or die.

"C'mere", said Dean before Cas got a chance to say anything else, and gestured for him to come closer. Cas did as he said and swam out to him. He stopped a good two feet from Dean, keeping his distance. Dean's heart sank a little.

"What about the handprint?" he asked.

"I have never asked you before, but… is it sore? Does it hurt?" Cas reached out a hand, tentative. He wouldn't even have reached Dean if Dean hadn't taken a step forward and placed his arm against Castiel's palm, concealing the scar perfectly under flesh and bone.

"No", said Dean quietly, giving a small smile. "It doesn't."

Castiel's touch was so gentle, so soft and Dean felt vulnerable again but to his own surprise, he didn't mind. If that feeling came with touching Cas and the only way to avoid it was not to have Cas' skin against his own, well, then it wasn't worth it. He'd rather feel like a sissy next to Cas than a warrior far away from him.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

"_The hurricane is estimated to be a category one. Residents are adviced to take in any loose objects in their backyards and proceed to stay inside throughout the time of the storm…"_

The Impala skidded in a turn and Dean grabbed the steering wheel tight and did his best to steer her up straight again. He managed, but it was a close one. The rain was pouring as if a thousand buckets of water were being turned upside down in the dark gray clouds that lay like a quilt over the sky. Thunder roared and lightning danced across the sky every now and then, and the wind blew so strong that even the sturdy Impala was starting to get hard to drive properly. Dean was starting to get sweaty, partly from the physical effort he had to put in to keep the car on the road, and partly because of the tension. If they crashed and Sam or Castiel got hurt, it would be Dean's fault, he was well aware of that. Had he been alone in the car, he wouldn't have worried as much.

"Dean, we gotta stop."

It took Dean a second to register what Sam had said.

"Why? We're only like twenty minutes from the motel."

"In this weather? I don't think so."

Dean thought he saw the hint of a bitchface, but he couldn't look at Sam for more than half of a split second because he needed to concentrate on the road and on the dozens of natural forces trying to throw his baby off the road.

"It's just a category one, Sam! Listen to the radio chick."

Sam abruptly turned the radio chick off.

"Dean, we can't just-"

"What if a branch hits the windshield?"

Castiel's rough voice coursed over Sam's and Dean chose to listen to him instead of his nagging baby brother. Cas' questions were stupid, but at least he wasn't bitching.

"No branch will hit the windshield, Cas", said Dean irritably. "Did you see any branches sticking out when we drove to the lake?"

"No."

"Exactly."

"But I saw one flying around in the air out there."

"What? No, you didn't."

"Yes, I did. Look, there's another one."

Dean looked, and a branch did indeed fly around in the air out there. It was four feet long, at least three inches thick and blew right across the road, bouncing like tumbleweed on the asphalt just a few feet in front of the Impala. Dean stepped on the breaks instinctively. The car skidded again, twisted and turned and it was a good thing Dean had liked to show off with it when he was younger because he really needed those steering skills now.

"Dean!"

Dean heard Cas call out from the backseat, but he couldn't turn his head to look or open his mouth to answer. Jaw clenched and knuckles white from gripping the wheel so tight he thought his skin might merge with it, he had to keep the car from slipping off the road and into the shrubs and trees in the ditch next to it.

Finally the Impala slid to a complete halt, its position slightly slanted on the empty road.

Dean relaxed his hands and blew out a heavy breath. He glanced at Sam, who was gripping the door with one hand and the panel with the other, eyes wide and mouth open.

"Sammy, you okay?"

Sam nodded and started to breathe again.

"Yeah."

"Cas?"

"My head is sore."

Dean unbuckled his seat belt – which he had put on because in this weather it would have been madness not to, even by his standards – and turned in his seat in order to get a better look at Cas.

Castiel was sitting in the seat behind Sam's, no belt on and fingers hovering above a spot on the right side of his forehead.

"Are you bleeding? Let me see." Dean reached out for he didn't know what and Cas scooted to the middle of the backseat. Dean grabbed the sides of his head and turned it so he could see the spot Cas' fingers didn't want to leave. Dean swatted his hand away and examined the injury, concluding that it was only a sore spot that might be a bruise tomorrow, but nothing worse.

"What happened?" he asked as he let go of Cas' face.

"My head hit the window when the car skidded", said Cas.

"You should've worn a seat belt, you idiot", said Dean, immediately regretting the mean tone of his voice but not enough to take it back.

"But you never wear a seat belt. You say you're a good driver-"

"Yeah but Cas, this is a _hurricane!_ What were you thinking? What if we'd gone off the road and-"

"Dean, take it easy", Sam interrupted, a simultaneously accusing and knowing look on his face. "No one is hurt, alright?"

Dean held his gaze for a moment, then turned around, leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes.

"We should go back to that lay-by we passed", said Sam. "It's the safest place."

"There are trees all around. Branches might fall and hit the car", said Cas. Dean forced back a smile at the thought of Cas being protective of the Impala.

"It's either that or keep driving, and that's even more risky", said Sam. "Out of a branch denting the car or rolling into a ditch, I prefer the first."

"But what if a branch hits the windshield and shatters it, making glass fly in onto us? If a shard of glass hit you in the eye it could blind you."

"And what if we kept driving and a wind came and blew the car onto the side and tipped it over into a ditch so-"

"Jesus Christ, shut up!" Dean opened his eyes and sat up straight. Sam and Cas looked at him, waiting for him, as the driver, to make the final decision. Because '_driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole'_ doesn't apply only to the choice of radio station.

"Sam is right, we go back to the lay-by."

"But-"

"Shut up, Cas! Buckle up and pipe down."

Cas frowned, but did as told.

Dean didn't really know why he got so frustrated. Well, he did, but he didn't like to admit it: he was scared. Not of the storm or of flying branches or rolling cars, but of the thought of the two people he cared about the most getting hurt, or worse. The thought would paralyze him or make him panic if he didn't lash out when it got in his face.

He didn't mean to sound so angry, but just as he didn't like to admit to being scared, Dean didn't like apologizing either. It was all so touchy-feely and stupid. He hated chick flick moments. Cas would probably forgive him anyway, even if he – unlike Sam – didn't understand why Dean acted the way he did.

It didn't take long before Dean parked the Impala in the lay-by and turned the engine off. The absence of the warm hum made the noises from outside appear much louder, the wind howling and the occasional thunder roaring through the sky. It was a storm in the most classical sense, perfect for a cheesy movie, except it was real.

Dean and Sam unbuckled their seatbelts and upon observing them, so did Castiel.

"What are we going to do now?" asked Cas.

"We're gonna wait", said Dean.

"But it might take-"

"All night", Sam finished with a nod.

"Get comfy", said Dean and began to twist in his seat, trying to arrange himself in a comfortable sleeping position behind the wheel. It was already late enough – eight PM, he saw when he looked at his wristwatch – and there wasn't much else they could do, if they didn't play twenty questions, a game Dean would oppose until the end of time when his brother was involved. Sam had had a period in his mid-teens when he had nagged Dean to play twenty questions in the car when they were on the road. Thinking the stupid idea could be made into something amusing, Dean had agreed the first couple of times, but when it became clear that Sam was not going to stop steering the questions into the territory of the possibility that Dean might be gay, Dean shunned the game and told Sam to shut up. After a while Sam stopped nagging and it was only occasionally that he would make remarks hinting at a hidden part of Dean's sexuality. Having only just consciously realized and accepted the fact that he might not be 100% straight, Dean wondered how Sam could have known all this time when Dean hadn't had a clue himself. Then again, Sam had always harbored the weird ability to read Dean's moods and sometimes even his exact thoughts, so maybe it wasn't so strange if he had been able to detect other things, too. Or it might just have been a lucky strike. Either way, it didn't really matter. Dean had been up and at it all day and was mentally exhausted after everything that had happened with Cas. Now he just wanted to sleep.

But Sam, who had already taken off his shoes, prodded him with his big feet and looked very disgruntled.

"Dean, you're gonna have to get in the back seat. I need to put my feet here."

"Stick to your own seat, bitch." Dean shoved Sam's sock-clad feet away only to be met with another, more forceful assault. "Cut it out!"

"I don't fit in this seat!" argued Sam. He demonstrated by putting his legs in front of his own seat. His knees almost hit the panel and there was no room for him to stretch them. It would be extremely uncomfortable for him to try to spend a whole night sitting like that. Stupid, tall moose of a man.

"Alright." Dean grunted. "Giant bitch."

"Tiny jerk." Sam gave a smug smile as Dean climbed between their seats to get to the back. Cas moved to make room even though he didn't have to. When Dean bounced down next to Cas, Sam contently propped his feet up on the driver's seat and arranged himself so his head was resting partly on the window and partly on the back of the shotgun seat. He had to bend his back a little bit, but it would be much nicer than having his legs go numb.

Sam threw back two flashlights he had gotten from the glove compartment. They were no bigger than the length of a hand but had a strong light and long battery time.

"In case you need it. Night, guys", Sam yawned.

"Good night", said Cas, putting the flashlights neatly in the middle of the backseat between him and Dean.

Dean could hear Sam humming contently before closing his eyes and drifting off to sleep. This was the way they always did it – Dean looking out for Sammy. After all, Dean was the one who had come and pulled him away from his normal life at Stanford to begin with. It was Dean's responsibility to make sure his little brother had it as good as possible, especially after all he'd been through. If it meant Sam's legs might not hurt tomorrow, Dean would gladly crowd in the backseat with Cas.

And he just realized what that meant. Crowding in the backseat with Cas.

It was the strangest feeling, like he wanted to puke but he also wanted to sing with joy.

It was going to get cold – it was already chilly – but turning the engine on was not an option because if they had to stay all night they would run out of gas and not be able to make it back to town when the storm had passed. They had some extra gear in the trunk, clothes and at least one blanket, and if it got cold enough one of them would have to go out and get it, and get soaking wet and probably catch a cold in the process. Dean would do it, if it came to that.

Castiel took his shoes off and pulled up his legs, clutching his arms and his trenchcoat around himself and resting his chin on his knees as he watched Dean take off his boots. Dean had more laces, so it took longer for him. Then he zipped up his jacket, crossed his legs and tucked his feet on top of each other on the floor on Cas' side of the backseat. His back rested against the door. He crossed his arms, leaned back and closed his eyes with a tired sigh.


	11. Chapter 11

It took maybe an hour or two before Dean was even somewhat comfortable tucked in his corner.

Sam was snoring lightly, Cas had not moved a muscle since he got in position – except for closing his eyes – and Dean, with his usual luck, was cold.

He shuffled around for like the tenth time, angrily trying to get into a comfortable and warm enough position. It was dark, nearly pitch black, except every now and then when lightning lit up the world. It was almost surreal how Dean happened to have his eyes open and looking in Castiel's direction when lightning flashed at the exact same time as Cas opened his eyes. Those deep blue irises pierced right into Dean's and made him still his movements, staring back in terror at the feral gaze he was being subjected to.

"Stop making noise", growled Cas. His voice was quiet, as not to wake Sam, but clearly audible.

"I'm just trying to get comfortable", whispered Dean.

"Then get comfortable", muttered Cas.

"It's not that easy."

"Why not?"

Dean rolled his eyes.

"What do you think? My back's against the damn door and I'm freezing."

A moment of silence passed before Cas spoke again.

"You're cold?"

"_You're_ not?"

"No. I suppose my coat is keeping me warm." The sound of shuffling clothes came from across the seat and then Dean was gently covered with a warm, comfortably heavy blanket of a coat that smelled like Cas. "Here."

"Cas, no", said Dean. The permeating smell of Cas all around him and so close made his voice thick for some reason. "_You_ will freeze without it. Take it back."

Dean shoved the coat back across the seat until he accidentally patted Castiel's feet with it.

"I'd rather you stay warm than I", said Cas, and his voice hit that low tone that reverberated in Dean's chest with every heartbeat. Then the coat was laid over Dean's head, as he was still leaning forward on the seat, facing Cas. Dean pulled the coat off and arranged himself more comfortably, his legs in front behind the driver's seat and his back against the backrest, as one would sit in a normal situation that didn't entail trying to fall asleep during a storm. He splayed out the coat on his lap so it covered his knees and upper body before holding up the right side and cocking his head in a 'come here'-gesture before he remembered that Cas couldn't see it.

"C'mere", he said. "We'll share."

Cas shuffled over and tucked himself next to Dean. He didn't say a word. Dean put his arm across Cas' shoulders and Cas leaned into him. They sat like that for minutes, Cas cuddling up to Dean under the trenchcoat and Dean being surprisingly at ease with the whole situation.

Cas snaked one arm slowly across Dean's stomach to anchor itself around his waist.

"Dean?" asked Cas. His voice was extremely quiet now as he didn't have to speak up at all for Dean to hear him.

"Yeah?" Dean's voice wasn't any louder.

"Are you in need of prolonged close physical contact in order to sleep?"

Dean snorted.

"No. Are you?"

"Maybe. But I don't think that's the only reason I enjoy it."

Dean had to remind himself to keep breathing. Cas' thumb caressed his side and he thought he might accidentally crawl out of his own skin from pure ravishment. He swallowed.

"Yeah? So what's the other reason?"

Cas increased the pressure with his thumb for just a second.

"You tell me."

Now he was teasing. Dean swatted him over the head with the hand that was thrown over his shoulders, and then ruffled his hair to make up for it.

"No." His hand slid down – on its own accord and with complete disregard for Dean's nerves – to fondle Cas' ear playfully and then graze his jawline before tucking itself back in under the coat where it fiddled slowly with the front of Cas' suit jacket. "_You_ tell _me_."

Cas shifted awkwardly. His hand disappeared from Dean's side, his shoulder dug into Dean's ribs and the top of his head bumped Dean's jaws.

"What are you doing?" hissed Dean.

Cas stilled after a second.

"I was sitting on the flashlights. They were digging into my-"

"Alright, alright!" Dean's voice came out almost too loud and he lowered it to a whisper again. "I get it. Better now?"

Cas nuzzled into Dean's jacket.

"Yes."

"You got the flashlights?"

A weight presented itself on top of the coat on Dean's right leg. He dug his left hand – the one not holding on to Cas' jacket – out from under the coat and grabbed a flashlight from Cas' hand.

"Put the other one away", said Dean quietly. Cas did as he said and threw the other flashlight to the opposite end of the backseat.

Dean pulled the coat over his and Castiel's heads so it covered them completely before turning on the flashlight. Thunder roared outside and the rain pattered constantly against the windows, but the sounds were a little bit muffled when you had a coat over your head. A coat that smelled almost as good as its owner looked.

Dean wedged the flashlight in the crevice between the backrest and the seat. White light streamed up and hit their faces from underneath, throwing weird shadows under their eyes and on their cheeks, but not so much that their expressions became unreadable. They were facing each other, legs folded under their bodies, knees touching and heads only inches apart.

It was much warmer under the coat. Dean could practically feel the color come back to his cheeks. Because it was warm, not because Cas' every breath touched his skin and almost made him blush. No, because it was warm. Warm.

Except it was because Cas' every breath touched his skin and almost made him blush.

"So", said Dean. He was somewhat awkwardly trying to figure out what to do with his hands. He ended up folding them in his lap. "You were going to tell me something?"

Cas furrowed his eyebrows – an expression Dean would've laughed at because of how the shadows played across Cas' face, if he hadn't been so nervous – but only for a moment, while he visibly went through their conversation in his head and remembered.

"Right", said Cas slowly. "The other reason."

He sounded like he was trying to drag it out because he didn't know what to say. Dean had to suppress a smile.

"The other reason", Dean repeated, nodding.

Cas wouldn't look at him. He was staring at his own hands, his beautiful hands, folded in his lap just like Dean's.

"I… uh…"

He licked his lips. Fucking tease even when he didn't mean to.

Dean leaned down and bent his head, looking at Cas from underneath and finally catching his gaze. The beam from the flashlight traveled over Dean's head in the perfect angle to hit Cas' eyes. They glittered and gleamed, unrealistically blue, and Dean had been sure he'd never be one to use the word 'enchanting' to describe something, but as with many other things lately, he found himself having to reconsider.

"You what?" Dean sing-songed, raising his eyebrows and smiling because really, what else was there to do when a former celestial wavelength of intent, an ancient and proud being, was sitting under a coat at night with light hitting his face and he was _nervous_ because of _you? _

"I…" Cas blinked. "… Don't really know, to be honest. I don't know what it is. When I'm near you, I find myself wanting to get closer…" Dean felt his eyes go wide and he sat up straighter. "… And when I'm close it's still not enough. It's not because I want to sleep, it's because I… I don't know. But being with you… it makes me happy."

Dean's chest swelled. Cas rarely used the word 'happy', but he knew very well what it meant. They'd had long discussions about it when he had just become human and was starting to feel human emotions more potently. Dean had described happiness by using examples like good pie, a perfect steak and a soft bed, and Sam had talked about endorphins and mentioned friends and accomplishing a personal goal. Cas had sat quietly and listened. When Sam asked if he could identify the feeling with anything he remembered, he had thought for half a minute before saying 'eating when you're hungry'. Later the same day he had said that seeing Sam and Dean smile made him happy, and then they had started to talk about empathy. Dean hadn't heard Cas use the word 'happy' in such a serious way again until now. Stupid as he was, Dean even had to blink back tears.

"Wow… Cas, I-"

"Do you know what I mean?"

"Yes." Dean looked him in the eyes. "Yes, I do. I feel it, too. I feel the same way."

Dean wanted to slap himself. _Listen to this_, said the voice in his head, _wittle Dean Winchester talking about his feewings. _

_Shut the fuck up,_ he bit back. And the voice actually silenced.

"What is it called?" asked Cas.

Dean blinked.

"What?"

"The feeling", said Cas. "Is it happiness, or does it have another name?"

Dean swallowed. Of course it did. It was called being in love. But he couldn't say that, he couldn't possibly say that. And neither could he leave Cas in the dark. It wasn't fair to keep him ignorant just because it was convenient for Dean. Like every human being, Cas had a right to his own feelings and to understanding them the best he could. Dean had no right to keep it from him. But he couldn't say it. He just couldn't. He couldn't.

Except he could.

He opened his mouth and took a quick but deep breath.

"It's called bei-"

"Oh my god, shut the fuck _up!" _

Dean jumped so high the coat almost flew off him. Sam the giant cockblock had struck again.

"I'm trying to sleep here!"

"Sorry, Sam", said Cas. "We'll be quieter."

Dean peeked out from under the coat and saw Sam changing position. He had his back to Dean and Cas now and it didn't take long before his light snores once again merged with the pattering of the rain as one single mush of background noise. Dean let go of the edge of the coat and turned back to Cas.

"You were saying?" said Cas. His mouth was bent in a small smile and his eyes shone with anticipation. Fuck, he was adorable.

There had to be a way of turning back. Cas was wonderful, he clearly felt the same way, and he was always patient and considerate and could even crack a good joke every now and then, but Dean couldn't _be with him_, not like that. Not that there would be anything wrong with it – people like who they like and whoever raises a fuss can go shove it up their asses – but he just… couldn't?

He paused briefly and asked himself, why really? Why couldn't he be with Cas like that? He'd like it, Cas would like it, Sam would get to tease them about it – it was a win-win situation for everyone. Why shouldn't they be together?

The more Dean thought about it the more obvious it seemed. When he looked at Cas and Cas looked back, still awaiting a reply, it suddenly struck him how stupid it was to be dancing around it like a nervous flamingo when it was clear that all they needed was for one of them to take a little leap.

"It's called being in love."

It took Cas a second to register what Dean said. Then he frowned.

"What? This is what it feels like? I thought being in love was supposed to be more frustrating and painful."

"You don't think it is?" asked Dean.

"No." Cas shook his head. "It's delightful."

Dean chuckled. _Delightful. Who even uses that word?_

"Don't you think it is?" asked Cas. Dean shifted awkwardly.

"Not when you're so damn close and beautiful all the time and I can't touch you."

Wait, did he actually just say that?

Cas smiled.

"You can touch me whenever you want, Dean."

Dean tried not to swallow, tried not to shiver but as usual his body failed him.

"That was supposed to be a cue", said Cas, voice low and husky.

Dean didn't let his eyes fall from Cas', but reached out a hand behind his back. Their faces came closer as Dean leaned forward so far that he could have stuck his tongue out and licked Castiel's lips. Not that he thought about that, of course. Not at all.

Ah, what was the point of denying it now? That would have been awesome. But not yet.

Dean's hand landed on Castiel's foot, which stuck out behind him since his legs were tucked in under the rest of his body. Dean found his toes and wiggled his fingers against them and Cas jumped.

"Dean!" he hissed.

Dean snickered.

"What? You said I could touch you."

"You can, but what did you do?"

Dean realized in that moment that Castiel hadn't ever been tickled before. He had never experienced being ticklish. Dean smirked when he thought of different ways to find out where Cas was the most sensitive. He could tie him up, use a feather and-

_Feathers. Wings. _

It all came streaming into his mind, a strong contrast to the giddy daze – when they first met and Dean stabbed Cas, the times they fought together, the times they'd been hurt, when Cas died and when they found him alive, Sorry, purgatory, when Cas fell, when they found each other yet again, and everything they had done in between and after all of that. A feeling of gratitude washed over Dean – gratitude and affection and an urge to express them. Cas had saved him not only from the fires of perdition, but from a hell inside himself. He would never forget that. He would never take it for granted.

Dean smiled and felt his eyes tear up.

"I tickled you", he said warmly. "We have spots that are ticklish. Varies a bit from person to person. If you touch them lightly, you squirm and laugh. But you can't do it to yourself. You can only do it to other people."

"It was uncomfortable."

"Yeah", said Dean, "but fun."

Cas smiled. He lifted a hand, movements slow, and placed it on Dean's left arm on top of the handprint hidden under the jacket. The two of them smiled at each other in a cheesy chick-flick moment that Dean oddly enough did not mind. Then Cas' hand traveled over Dean's shoulder and up his neck, stopping to gently scratch the hair on the back of his head. Dean closed his eyes and sighed. His hand, in turn, skated up Castiel's chest, a bit annoyed with all the layers of clothing, and up to cup his face. Dean squeezed, maybe a little too hard, and Cas let out a soft laugh.

"I thought you would be bolder."

Dean opened his eyes.

"Bolder?"

"And here I am", Cas smirked, "taking all the first steps. I have no idea what I'm doing. I'm just improvising." He cocked his head a little. "… Well, I do remember the pizza man."

Dean felt something happen inside him, a spark igniting from an undeniable prompt. The paralyzing part of his nervousness fell away and left only the playful acceptance of a challenge. It was a familiar feeling for once, and one he knew how to act on.

He pushed Cas backwards. Cas bent back over his tucked legs – _flexible _– and lay on his back on the seat. The flashlight was knocked out of its position but still shone in a way that Dean could see Cas' face in a dim light under the trenchcoat.

Dean followed Cas, descending slowly. His brain screamed with warning signals and flashing lights when his lips were inches from Castiel's, but he didn't stop. Cas parted his lips as soon as Dean touched them, welcoming him as far as he wanted. Dean locked their lips together, and seconds later it was as if they'd never done anything else. Dean's kisses were soft and slow. Cas was more forceful and tried to speed it up. Eventually Dean complied and nipped gently at Castiel's bottom lip – so soft and full and he finally got to feel it – before sliding his tongue in. The flashing lights in Dean's head turned to fireworks when Cas responded, eager and willing. He tried to follow when Dean rose up, but Dean pushed him down by the shoulders and met his eyes with a look that was almost accusatory.

"Bolder? Be careful what you wish for."

Castiel stared at him in silence, and Dean was just about to crash down on him and his gorgeous lips again and show him what Dean Winchester was really made of when a thud came from the front seat.

"Goddammit, guys!"

The coat was torn off from them and a sleepy Sam with ruffled hair and tired eyes looked at them with the face of a pissed-off mother.

"It's great", he said, exhaling a puff of air, "that you're finally confessing your feelings for each other, but could you _please_ wait 'til I'm out of earshot?"

Dean was frozen, literally unable to move, and stared at Sam with a look he tried to make into an offended glare, but it came out closer to terrified deer-eyes. Cas didn't seem as upset.

"My apologies, Sam. I suppose we forgot you were there."

"Yeah, yeah." Sam whipped a strand of hair away from his eyes. "Get off each other. C'mon."

"Dean", said Cas. Dean drew his eyes from Sam to Cas, who smiled and squeezed his sides with hands that had at some point scooted up and gripped his waist. "Get off me."

"What? Oh, yeah, right." Dean backed up and sat on his end of the seat. He cleared his throat and tried to straighten up his clothes and fix his hair. Cas sat up too, and Sam handed him the coat. Cas looked from Sam to Dean and back to Sam.

"I think Dean would like you to… forget you ever saw this. Figuratively speaking. I know we can't ask you to _actually_ forget-"

"I won't mention it", said Sam. A grin spread across his face – a disturbingly sinister one. "On one condition. _You_ can't forget it ever happened."

"Why do you care, anyway?" said Dean, who had finally managed to take in some new oxygen. Sam gave him a knowing look. It was slightly patronizing, but Dean wasn't in the mood to point it out.

"Dean", said Sam, "I think I've known longer than you have. Certainly longer than Cas has."

Cas frowned.

"And it's okay, believe me. I'd be leaping with joy if I weren't so tired. Just… just get some sleep. Okay?"

"Okay." Castiel grinned and looked down.

Sam turned back around and lay down again, putting Cas and Dean out of his sight. When a few moments had passed, Cas scooted closer to Dean.

"Lie down", he mumbled.

Dean did as told. Cas followed him down onto the seat. The Impala wasn't a small car, but the seats weren't made for two people to sleep on stretched out next to each other. It was cramped and uncomfortable in a way that made it possible for Dean to identify exactly which of his muscles would be sore tomorrow, but he had never felt so good. Cas whipped the coat around the two of them so only their heads stuck out. Cas was warm, soft and inviting in front of Dean, arms around his torso, pulling their bodies closer together so Dean wouldn't fall off the seat. Cas slid a leg in between Dean's, which resulted in Dean sighing and moving – if possible – even closer, and putting his one free arm around Cas' waist. With Cas' head rested against Dean's chest, they fell asleep within minutes, despite the thunder and rain raging outside.


	12. Chapter 12

_**I think maybe I should mention that I wrote this during the hiatus between season 8 and 9. All I knew was that Castiel had become human and that all the other angels had fallen. I didn't know if any angels still had their mojo or anything like that. So I guess this is kind of an AU, in which April didn't happen (i.e. Cas didn't have sexy tiems), and some other things. Just assume that this story branched off from canon SPN at the end of season 8. Obviously there's a bit of a time jump from the s8 finale to the start of this fic, but yeah... Just roll with it. **_

* * *

Dean woke up to silence.

He opened his eyes and looked around only to find that everything was exactly the same as it had been when he had fallen asleep, except that the rain had stopped and the sun was starting to rise outside. It wasn't light just yet. No obligation to get up. Despite the soreness in some of his muscles, Dean didn't want to move. Castiel was snoozing against his chest, drooling a little bit, and it was the sweetest thing he'd ever seen.

Dean rubbed his hands across Castiel's back and sighed into his hair. Cas squirmed a little and nuzzled in closer to Dean, who held him tighter.

"Morning?" mumbled Cas.

"Soon", said Dean quietly.

Cas yawned.

"Where's Sam?"

"He's sleeping", said Dean. He pressed his lips to Castiel's head. "We can sleep some more too, baby."

Dean froze. Oh_ goddammit_, what had he said now? This was Cas, not a girl. And Cas wasn't even just a guy. Cas was mentally still part celestial being and he would surely not take a liking to being called-

Cas chuckled.

"That is a strange nickname."

"I'm sorry", said Dean quickly.

"You don't have to apologize. It's an endearing term, isn't it? In this circumstance, it does not refer to an infant."

"No", said Dean. "No, it means I- I care about you."

"Then feel free to call me that."

A rush of warmth traveled up Dean's body. He pulled Cas closer and pressed another kiss to the top of his head. He couldn't say the words yet, but he could do his best to show them.

Cas pulled on Dean's jacket to urge him backwards. When Dean moved – ever so little, because just an inch more and he would probably fall down and wake Sam and the moment would be gone – Cas scooted up a bit so his face was level with Dean's. He looked at him for a second, eyes welling with an emotion Dean couldn't identify, before he moved forward and pressed his lips to Dean's.

Dean was in shock at first. He had to take a moment and breathe in through his nose to realize that he was supposed to do something – kiss back, part his lips, move his hands, anything. He did all of it, his hands balling up into fists clutching the back of Castiel's jacket, lips parting to welcome his tongue and moving to take in more of him.

"'Ey Cas", Dean mumbled through the kisses – through, not in between, because Cas never pulled away. "There's a thing humans ha- _Mmm… _Have that's called… morning breath."

Cas finally pulled away.

"Do you care?" he asked.

"No", said Dean. Of course he didn't. He just wanted to make sure. He hadn't said that because he was nervous, not at all. Why would he be nervous? He knew Cas. Nah, Dean wasn't nervous in the slightest.

Except he was.

"Well then." And then Cas' lips were on his again.

As soon as Cas needed to pull away to breathe, Dean seized the opportunity to dip his head and have a go at his throat. He kissed and licked and nibbled his way up to the spot between Cas' jaw and earlobe, where apparently if teeth touched the skin, Cas' body went all soft – except for one particular part of it, on which it had the opposite effect – and he let out a moan.

"Oh, Dean…"

_Fuck._

Had they promised Sam not to fuck each other right then and there in the Impala? Because it seemed like that could be a challenging promise to keep.

Dean sucked on the spot, licked and then nibbled again, harder this time just to see Cas' reaction. He whimpered and arched into Dean, every part of their bodies coming into contact under the trenchcoat. Dean smiled against Cas' skin when he felt his hardness against his own through way too much fabric. Dean ran his tongue over the now sore spot, and smirked.

"So that's a favorite spot of yours, huh?" he murmured. "I'm gonna have to remember that."

"Don't stop, Dean."

"Shut up, Cas."

Castiel pulled impatiently on Dean's jacket, his hands constantly switching places, never satisfied with were they were. He was panting slightly and there was a needy, almost pained expression on his face, as if he hadn't ever-

Oh god. He hadn't ever.

Dean hadn't thought about that. He hadn't ever with a dude and Cas hadn't ever at all. Dean would have to take charge and pretend like he knew what he was doing. He had to sell it to Cas and show him how great it is so he'd want to do it again. No pressure, Dean, no pressure at all.

But then Castiel's lips were on his again and Dean lost his train of thought. When he found it again, it was going in an entirely different direction. This was _Cas_, what did he have to worry about? It was Cas, his best friend, his angel who always came when he called. It would be okay.

"No don't shut up, baby, talk", Dean begged, stroking his fingertips up and down Castiel's sides. He aimed for Cas' throat again, intent this time on leaving a mark.

Cas probably wasn't ready for the sudden assault, because he yelped when Dean's teeth touched his skin and he started sucking. Cas twitched and almost pushed Dean off the seat. Dean shoved him into the backrest the best he could and concentrated on that one spot on Cas' neck while one hand wandered down to cup his ass.

"_Ooh_, Dean, you're… Oh, Dean… _DEAN_…"

Each time Cas said his name Dean applied teeth to the hickey he was making and pulled Cas closer, not so much because he wanted to get more out of the situation but because he had a hard time controlling himself, when that voice said his name in that needy, pleading way.

"Dean, you're amazing, I- _Mmm_…"

Dean was going to thrust his hips to shove Cas into the backrest again, but he did a little more than he intended to when he accidentally shoved his thigh in between Cas' legs, creating a dramatic increase in friction. Cas called out, probably as much in surprise as with pleasure, and seconds after that a shoe hit Dean in the head and he heard one of the car doors opening. Sam stumbled out and looked at them through the window with the most offended expression Dean could ever remember seeing on his face.

"_OH MY GOD!"_ yelled Sam. "What is _wrong_ with you?! I was _right there_! Oh my god!"

Dean couldn't help but laugh when Sam walked in wide circles outside the Impala, cursing loudly and only socks on his feet, to get himself together.

Cas and Dean took a while trying to get past one another and sit in their respective seats, not touching, as painful as it was to resist. Dean put the coat over their laps and gave Cas a meaningful look shooting from his face to his lap and back to his face when he looked puzzled.

"Oh", said Cas when he understood.

Not that it was a big secret, not that Sam hadn't figured it out, but it was the appropriate thing to do to keep it a mere uncomfortable thought in his brother's mind.

"Hey, Sam!" Dean called. Sam stopped and turned around to look at him, a few feet away from the car. "Get your ass in here so we can go."

Sam approached the Impala.

"You're not gonna drive?"

"Consider it a gift." Dean smiled. He could tell from Sam's face the split second he realized why.

But Sam didn't say anything. He simply took out his shoes – Dean handed him the one Sam had thrown at him and Cas – put them on, closed the shotgun door, walked around the hood and entered the driver's seat. He started the car and drove out on the road.

The weather was clear. The sun was rising in an almost cloud-free sky and the only evidence from last night's storm was the broken branches lying scattered on the road. Sam had to drive around a few of them.

When they reached the motel, the sun was up and people were starting their days, evident from the quiet movement visible further in the town which the motel lay on the outskirts of. Having parked the car, Sam turned to look at Castiel and Dean.

"You two get off here. I'll go get us some breakfast."

Dean was safe now, so he gave the coat to Castiel and stepped out of the car. Cas followed, carrying the coat in his hands. Sam rolled down the window when they were about to walk away.

"I'll be back in about fifteen minutes. Don't let me walk in on anything."

Dean smirked. Cas looked incredulous.

"We'll see about that", said Dean.

"Fuck you", said Sam, but before he rolled the window down and drove away, he smiled with a warmth in his eyes that told Dean he knew the magnitude of what had happened, and that he was so happy for his brother.

Stepping up the three steps of stairs to the wooden porch that stretched along the doors to the motel rooms, Cas' hand accidentally brushed against Dean's. Dean instinctively pulled back.

"Dean?"

Dean looked at Cas and noticed that Cas was looking at him too, with that squint he did when he was trying to figure something out.

"Hm?" Dean upped his pace, walking before Cas to the door.

"Isn't it custom for two humans that are romantically involved to hold hands as a public display of affection and belonging?"

Dean almost felt dizzy. _Romantically. Affection. Belonging. _Too many pink and fluffy words directed at him at once. He missed the lock and drove the key into the door. It left a mark.

"It's, uh, optional", he said, managing to get the key into the lock on the second try, and opening the door.

"I figure it would be a good way to let other people know that neither of us are available as mates", said Cas. Dean snorted. "Did I say something amusing?"

Dean grabbed Cas by the arm and guided him into the motel room. He closed and locked the door behind them and went to grab a beer from the fridge.

"Don't say 'mates'", said Dean. "You want one of these?"

"No thank you", said Cas. "What should I say?"

"Partn-" Dean stopped himself. Were they getting official already? Were they going to label it this soon? It was pretty clear what it was and what they both wanted, but… Already?

Cas put his coat over the backrest of one of the chairs around the small, round table before sitting down.

"What?"

Dean snapped out of the little vacuum of no time and space he had slipped into.

"I said, uh… Look, Cas, does it really matter?"

"Yes", said Cas seriously. "I am learning to be a human. I need to know how to speak like one so people won't find me strange."

Something stung in Dean's chest. Cas was aware that he didn't talk like most people. He was aware of what that made people think of him, and he didn't want them to think he was a freak.

Dean walked over to stand behind Cas. He leaned into him slightly, put a hand on his shoulder and rubbed it.

"You talk perfectly fine", said Dean. "Anyone who doesn't agree can go suck it."

"But if I am to make friends, I have to appear… appealing."

Another needle shot into Dean's heart. Cas wanted to make friends.

Dean put his bottle on the table and squatted next to Cas. He put one hand on Cas' leg, gripped his hand with the other, and looked him in the eyes.

"You haven't been human for a long time, Cas. You'll learn." Dean looked down, smiling, suddenly feeling coy. "And you're not exactly repulsive."

Dean felt Castiel's hand tighten around his own.

"But I _am_ different."

Dean stood up, went to the fridge and got another bottle of beer. On his way back he pulled another chair close to Cas' and sat down on it, prying the bottle open against the edge of the table.

"You do want one of these", said Dean and handed the bottle to Cas, who hesitantly accepted. "Some people think different is good."

He opened his own bottle and took a long sip.

"Do you?"

Dean propped his legs up on Castiel's lap.

"Depends on what kinda different it is", he said. "Your different is perfect."

It pleased him that it sounded much less sappy than he'd thought it would. Castiel's face lit up with a small, grateful smile. He tried the beer, carefully, and once he'd swallowed, his eyebrows shot up in surprised approval.

"You were right", he said. "I do want one of these."

"Told you so."

They sat like that, quietly listening to the sound of their own breaths, for the rest of the time until Sam came back.


	13. Chapter 13

When Sam came back, he was carrying his jacket on one arm. It was already getting hot outside.

"I wanna get out of Arizona", he said. "Like, today. It's way too hot here."

"I agree", said Castiel, grabbing a grilled sandwich from one of the bags Sam put on the table.

"Then we go right after breakfast", Dean decided. "And a shower."

A beeping tune suddenly erupted from somewhere on Dean. He leaned back, dug his phone out from his jeans pocket and answered.

"Yeah?" He couldn't stifle a grin when he heard the voice on the other end. "Hi, Charlie!"

Sam perked up like a dog at the sound of a whistle.

"Charlie?" he said.

"How are my favorite hunters doing?" asked Charlie. She sounded well, and safe, and Dean's smile widened.

"We're fine, thanks", he said. "You?"

"Dean, give me the phone." Sam, who looked like he had just remembered something very important, reached for the phone. Dean swatted his hand away.

"Not too bad", said Charlie, "but there's something going on here. There have been some strange disappearances in the woods. Sounds sketchy. I'm in Maine, a small town called Froglick."

Dean snorted at the name.

"Yeah, I know", said Charlie, "Can you come check it out? I'm not sure I can crack this one on my own."

Dean clenched and unclenched his jaw. He still didn't like the thought of Charlie hunting, especially not by herself, but he'd learned that he had to let her. She was more stubborn than him when it came down to it, and far better at coming with convincing arguments. The last time they met they'd let Castiel be the judge as they both argued their case, with Sam sometimes throwing in a word to support Dean, and Cas had maintained the view that, quote, 'one's life was one's own' and could 'be lived as one pleased, especially if one wanted to do good'. After that, Dean had scowled for days, acting especially sour towards Cas, but he had eventually given in and realized that maybe, probably, most likely, Cas and Charlie were right.

"Yeah, sure", said Dean. "We were just about to leave Arizona, in fact."

"You had a case there?"

"Just gankin' some ghosts. Not much else to do here though, and it's hot as fuck, so we're leaving."

"I don't know, I think you've found something to do", muttered Sam, smirking. Dean choked on his own spit and coughed. Once he managed to take a breath again, he said to Charlie, who was patiently waiting on the other end,

"We'll be there in about two days."

"Great", said Charlie. "See you then."

"See y-" Right before Dean was going to hang up, Sam reached over the table and snatched the phone from his hand. Sam pressed it to his own ear, standing up to walk around the room. Dean gave up, resigning to glare angrily at him.

"Charlie, you owe me fifty bucks."

Dean cocked an eyebrow, sharing a look of confusion with Castiel, who had put down his sandwich to observe what was going on.

"It happened, Charlie", said Sam. His voice was dead serious. "It _happened_."

"What is he talking about?" whispered Cas. Dean shrugged, eyes on Sam.

"What do you mean you don't know what I'm talking about?" Sam sounded excited now. "It happened! _IT!_ Yeah!"

Sam turned around, facing the table, a grin slowly spreading across his face.

"Yeah, you owe me fifty bucks." He sat down on his chair again. "Yeah… Yeah, two days. Yes, I'm serious. You'll see. Yeah, bye Charlie."

He hung up and tossed the phone to Dean.

"What was that all about?" asked Dean.

"Oh, nothing." Sam smiled innocently. "Let's eat so we can get going."

* * *

When he had finished his breakfast, Dean stood up and walked towards the door.

"I'm gonna go get some clean clothes from the trunk."

"I will go with you", said Cas, gulping down the last half of his coffee in one go.

"It takes like thirty seconds."

Cas didn't seem to understand why that would change his decision, so Dean let him come.

Having closed the door behind them, Dean was focused on getting the clothes and stared straight ahead, with a slight tension somewhere between his shoulder blades because he knew he should probably have something to say at this point. Castiel, however, didn't seem to notice the awkwardness Dean was experiencing. He grazed his hand over Dean's, drawing no reaction – not even a twitch, like last time – and when they reached the three steps of stairs Cas gently grasped Dean's hand fully, lacing their fingers together.

It was actually surprisingly nice, the warmth between their palms and the steadiness of Cas' fingers interlaced with his own sort of grounding him to the present moment, but Dean pulled away.

"Cas, this isn't the time", he mumbled through clenched teeth, eyes locked on the Impala.

"You said it was optional. And I'd like to."

"Not now."

Cas didn't say anything else.

They kept their clothes in duffel bags. Cas shared his duffel bag with Dean, because Cas only owned two suits, two ties, four shirts and a couple of socks and boxers, all of which looked exactly the same. They had tried to take him shopping when they had found him again, human, sweaty and dirty, but it hadn't been much fun. He didn't care much for variation when it came to his clothing. He'd insisted on white shirts and a near-copy of the old trenchcoat he'd had to give up along the way. It was really too expensive, that coat, but Dean gave up two of his dinners – blaming it on a nonexistent stomachache – so they'd be able to afford it. Not that he'd ever tell Cas.

Dean didn't really know how it had happened that he and Cas were the ones sharing a bag and not Cas and Sam or Sam and Dean and Cas having his own. He didn't know why they hadn't just bought another duffel for Cas. It wasn't like army surplus duffel bags were costly. It had just… happened, somehow, that Dean threw Cas' clothes in with his own. Cas hadn't said anything about it either. Now that he had come to accept that many things he'd discarded in the past probably had some kind of reason and significance regarding his feelings towards Castiel, Dean understood that he could probably question himself for hours about why he had done that, about what it had meant.

Dean tossed their shared duffel to Cas and pulled Sam's out from the trunk. He closed the trunk and locked the car and started to walk back to the motel room with Cas following in his wake.

Inside, they dropped the bags to the floor.

"Alright, who goes first?" asked Dean.

"I haven't finished my breakfast yet", said Sam, gesturing towards his half-eaten sandwich and full coffee cup.

"I'll go first", said Cas. He squatted and started rummaging through his and Dean's bag, quickly pulling out a clean set of clothes identical to the ones he was already wearing.

Dean spoke without thinking.

"If you want to be normal, why don't you stop wearing the same thing all the time?"

Cas stilled and looked up at him. Dean realized what he'd said, how it had come out, how it should have been left as a fleeting thought that meant nothing, and not spoken out loud. Cas didn't act hurt, but Dean knew that look all too well. It was a numb one, one Cas put on when he shielded himself.

Dean would have grabbed his hand and pulled him up into a hug and whispered a hundred apologies in his ear if Sam hadn't been right there, staring at the two of them so intensely that Dean didn't have to see him – he could feel it in the back of his neck.

Cas stood up, clutching his clothes against his chest, and moved past Dean towards the bathroom.

"Cas", said Dean. Cas didn't stop or turn.

"It's okay, Dean", he said quietly, opening the bathroom door.

"Cas, I didn't mean it like-" The door closed. "-that." Dean sighed.

"Wow. Your first fight already?" Sam looked serious but sounded amused. "Literally hours after you hooked up? Keep going at this rate and you'll be married by the end of the week." He coughed lightly, smirking as he looked up at Dean from behind the fist he held in front of his mouth.

"It's not funny", said Dean. "I think I hurt him. I didn't mean to say that, I didn't even mean to think it."

Sam sighed as if he were the older sibling, the one having to give life advice to his baby brother. Well, maybe when it came to relationships Sam did have more to say. He was a natural at that shit, all communicative, honest and selfless. Maybe Dean could have been, too. Once upon a time, maybe he'd had the potential, but he'd been broken so many times that he'd lost count of the cracks in his heart, and those cracks made him fuck up continuously.

"Cas knows you didn't", said Sam. He cocked his head in the direction of the bathroom. "Go talk to him."

Dean raised his eyebrows.

"He's in the shower."

Sam did the same thing again.

"Go talk to him."

"No", said Dean, turning and making a move to resume his place in the chair by the table. "He needs some space."

"Wrong", said Sam. He stood, grabbed Dean by the shoulders, and in one swift motion spun him around and pushed him towards the bathroom. "Go talk to him or I'll call everyone we know and tell them exactly what's happened in the last twenty-four hours."

Dean glared at his brother – his very evil, blackmailing, puppy-dog-eyed _bitch_ of a brother.

"Fine", muttered Dean. "But you have to leave."

"I'll take a walk!" Sam was by the door faster than Dean had thought humanly possible, having closed it behind himself before Dean even got a chance to react. Dean went and locked it before walking over to the bathroom where the door was, not so surprisingly, unlocked. Dean leaned against the frame and knocked with his knuckles on the thin wood.

"Cas?"

There was no sound of running water in there. In fact there was no sound at all. Dean furrowed his eyebrows.

"Cas?" he knocked again, harder this time.

"What do you want, Dean?" came a calm, cold voice from the other side.

"I wanna say I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say what I said."

No reply. Dean blinked hard. What else was he supposed to say? He was getting frustrated – not with Cas, but with himself and his failed attempts at everything that didn't involve punching or stabbing.

"It's okay to wear whatever you want, Cas. There are many people who dress the same all the time." Dean couldn't think of anyone, but there had to be someone, somewhere, right? "I just thought out loud and it was stupid." Silence. "Would you at least talk to me?"

More silence. Dean blinked away tears from his eyes, mentally scolding himself for what Sam would call sensitivity but which Dean, like his father before him, called weakness.

He was getting scared now. He was starting to freak out. What if Cas didn't want him anymore? What if Cas had never really wanted him? What if Cas would leave now and find someone else to live with, someone new, someone stable, someone better, someone-

"Dean, are you ashamed of me?"

Dean blinked.

"What?"

"Do I embarrass you?"

"What? No! Where'd you get that idea?"

No reply. Dean swallowed.

Where could Cas possibly have gotten that from? Had he said something, something other than the stupid thing about the clothes? Dean played every memory he had from the past couple of days in his head, fast-forwarding up to the present moment. He could only think of one thing, but it was so small, so trivial that it couldn't possibly be what made Castiel, an ex-Angel of the Lord and ancient celestial being, so unsure.

"Was it because I didn't want to hold your hand?" Still no reply, but this time the silence was telling. Dean leaned his forehead against the door and sighed. "Man, that has nothing to do with you. It's me. I'm just not ready for… I mean, a couple of days ago I didn't even know that I, you know- That I'd ever… with a guy."

"There is nothing wrong with it, Dean", came Castiel's voice from behind the door. It was much closer this time.

"I know", said Dean quickly. "It's fine with me, now, but everyone, you know, they don't- Everyone doesn't think the same."

"I don't care." Castiel's voice was low and rough, almost challenging. Dean twitched, a close-to-electric feeling settling low in his stomach, sending up a flock of butterflies to whirl around in his belly, threatening to make his hands tremble and his voice quiver. If he hadn't had years of training in controlling this particular feeling – around this particular person – he probably would have sounded like a complete wreck when he spoke again.

"I just might need some time, okay?"

The door opened. Cas stood right there on the other side, blue eyes fixed on Dean's. Relief flooded over Dean like a tidal wave seeing that Cas was still there – he hadn't magically zapped away or become a wavelength of intent and escaped through a crack in the wall. He couldn't do that anymore, but the thought still haunted Dean sometimes as if he were chronically afraid of being abandoned. But Cas was still there, tangible and close with five o'clock shadow and a hint of bags under his eyes, and Dean could breathe.

"I am _not_ ashamed of you", he said. "You do _not_ embarrass me. You hear me?"

Castiel nodded slowly, eyes unwavering. Then he, somewhat hesitantly, grabbed Dean's jacket and pulled him into the bathroom. He let go to shut the door behind them.

"Lock it", said Dean.

"Sam went out. I heard."

"He might come back."

Castiel flipped the lock without giving it so much as a glance, as if he had done it a thousand times before, which Dean was sure he hadn't. Then he walked towards Dean, who backed until he was pressed up against the wall. Cas' hands were still hanging at his sides, his gaze enough to fix Dean to the spot. And he was still wearing all of his clothes. He hadn't even taken off the suit jacket.

"What were you doing in here, anyway?" asked Dean, a small smirk breaking out on his face. "Just sitting quietly, worrying?"

"Don't mock me", growled Castiel slowly, and Dean was sure he blushed when he felt the very real beginning of a hard-on. If they continued this way his jeans would be too tight soon and, well, what happens happens, right? "But yes I was."

Dean snorted. He lifted his arms and put them on Castiel's shoulders, his forearms crossing behind Cas' neck.

There were so many things he wanted to say, but none that he dared.

Instead, he gripped the lapels of Castiel's suit jacket and helped him shrug it off.

"You were supposed to shower so we can get going sometime." Dean smiled. "Am I gonna have to help you?"

Dean shrugged off his own jacket, dropping it to the floor, and started undoing Castiel's tie. Cas didn't look away from him even once. It was nerve-wrecking to have his every twitch and glance monitored and probably carefully evaluated, but exciting to be the subject of so much unwavering attention. It wasn't until Dean pulled the tie off and tossed it to the side to rest on the closed toilet lid that Castiel broke the silence.

"You are very aesthetically pleasing."

Dean stilled for a moment. He looked at Cas, then smiled and began to undo the buttons on his shirt.

"So are you."

When the shirt finally fell to the floor, Cas wrapped his arms around Dean's waist and pressed him up against the wall, with his body this time, not just his eyes.

Dean drew a hitched breath. This was still new to him, to have a body feel like that when it's pressed against him without the threat of a knife or eyes switching to black. It didn't feel different just because Cas was a guy. It was different because Dean wasn't used to doing these kinds of things with someone he actually knew and had grown attached to. That had only happened a handful of times in his life, if even that many.

The fact that Cas was a dude always seemed to fall away when he got closer than two feet. It wasn't just some guy, it was _Cas_. It was Cas, Cas was it and Cas was everything, so close and perfect and not much else mattered in those moments. That feeling was new, too – the complete disregard for the rest of the world and its jackasses and monsters and anything that happened in it. It made Dean feel so good that he found himself wishing to be with Cas like this forever.

Quickly, he pulled off his shirt, and there they were, so much skin and such intense eyes, just like yesterday in the lake.

Yesterday.

It hadn't even been a whole day and they were already here. Why had they waited so long to take this step? Where could they have been now if they'd taken it several years ago?

Cas pressed into him, his face resting in the crook of Dean's neck, chest heaving as he breathed him in. Dean wrapped his arms around Cas' back and rubbed it, scooting a few inches lower each time he dared. Cas didn't seem to mind. He was so relaxed that Dean almost envied him.

"Weren't we supposed to shower?" said Cas. The movement of his lips grazed against the skin of Dean's neck. Doing his best to stifle the way too needy grunt that wanted to escape him, Dean arched his hips, his jeans rubbing against the softer fabric of Cas' pants. "This is not a shower."

Dean put his hands on Cas' shoulders and gently pushed him back.

"Fine then. Take off your clothes."


End file.
